


Piercing Issues

by PerpetuallyScreaming



Series: The Lies We Tell Ourselves [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Minor Violence, References to Heathers because there's absolutely someone out there who's not okay with that, i got you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerpetuallyScreaming/pseuds/PerpetuallyScreaming
Summary: After a nice long day of rehearsals for Thomas, Roman decides to relax and do some casual monster-slaying in the mindscape. But when he encounters a ferocious dragon whose weapon of choice is words, he might have finally met his match.(Written prior to The Lies We Tell Ourselves. Will eventually be integrated into the main story, but I'm keeping it up because why not.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Needless to say, I'm not a huge writer, but this idea just would not let go. Technically speaking, this is the longest thing I've ever written, which probably says something about my attention span, but I digress. This was super fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
> 
> A million thanks to my beta, oftheflamingheart. None of this would have been half as sensical, coherent, or enjoyable without his help and patience. You can find him at https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfTheFlamingHeart/pseuds/OfTheFlamingHeart .

Roman rose up in the mindscape as regally as a prince should: chest puffed, strap up, gorgeous brown hair combed back, and all-around ready to literally slay. After a long day of fantastic dress rehearsal, he wanted nothing more than to blow off some steam by conquering some of Thomas’ inner demons. And where better to do so than a world entirely of his own design, the imagination itself, in a kingdom where royalty such as himself could perform unabashedly without comments from the other two?

He heard chirping from the far edge of the tallgrass field he stood in and smiled dashingly to himself. Yes, here was a world which was fitting for someone of his status; where the birds flocked to his shoulder. Even they knew that they were in the presence of Prince Roman himself.

He snickered. Flocked. He’d have to remember that one for Patton.

But alas, now was not the time for cunning wordplay! Now, he sought out the monster which terrorized the one he was oath-bound to. He brought a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the midday sun, and a small cave came into view in the very far distance.

So this was his quest, then: to reach the beast’s lair and put a heroic end to whatever might lay within. It would be many a fortnight’s journey, and there would no doubt be many perils ahead. But such a trek was a necessary tribulation for any valiant or worthy knight to come out as a noble upholder of justice.

But it was such a long walk. And his feet were sore. And he was on a bit of a time crunch…

So the hero sunk out and up to the mouth of the caves in five seconds like a brave warrior. Yes, truly the epitome of self-sacrifice was he.

Before he could snap his fingers to set the mood himself, the sky darkened, as though the universe itself was in anticipation of the epic battle that would soon occur. Massive storm clouds rolled in, tinged with indigo. But Roman did not flinch for an instant, and instead adventured bravely into the cave.

Only a few steps in, he discovered a trapdoor in plain sight. He began to carefully walk around it, but as he did so, stopped dead in his tracks as he heard his own voice emerge from it faintly: “Prove yourself.”

Prove himself? Surely, this was a challenge directly from the enemy, and he would of course eagerly accept. Curiously but cautiously, he pulled it open to discover a ladder which fell into a dark dungeon. He smiled confidently, secured his blade in its scabbard, and scaled the ladder down into the murky depths of what was sure to be the cretin’s lair.

Just as he stepped onto the floor of the dungeon, sharp, cruel laughter filled the air. Instinctively, he drew his sword from its position on his belt and twirled around. But there was no one to be seen in the dimly lit corridor flooded up to his ankles.

“Show yourself, fiend!” he cried. In response, though, he received nothing more than a lifeless, breathlike gust from the edges of the cave. The monster wished, it seemed, for him to enter their domain on their own terms. Roman had no choice but to comply.

He trudged wearily down the seemingly endless path dotted by torches until at last, he spotted a shadow on the wall. At first, he thought it to be his own, but as he took a step towards it, it remained eerily stagnant. This was no mere shadow, he realized. No, this must be the demon that terrorized Thomas’ mind. He tightened his grip on the sword’s handle, keeping it low, and broke into a sprint.

Just before he could turn the corner from around which the shadow crept, he stopped dead in his tracks as it began to morph. A great tail extended from it, and great arched wings emerged from its torso. The whole body grew, larger and larger, until it fell onto all fours, its full height no longer satisfied by the confines of the cave ceiling. Jagged spikes rose along its spine. Its mouth opened to reveal a menacing, spiked tongue, which gave a ferocious hiss that shook sediment down from between stalactites.

Then, it took a slow step forward, and Roman was gazing up at a terrible dragon.

Features drawn into a condescending smirk, it spoke with a surly feminine voice, “well, well, well. If it isn't the Prince of Creative Recipes for Disaster.”

“Faced with the very disaster he’s been preparing for,” he replied calmly, without missing a beat.

“Oh really?” she chuckled, crossing her forearms and settling her head down onto them. “And what made you so desperate to prepare for me?”

Slightly perplexed by the question, the prince paused a moment before responding, “I am a prince of passions, and I prepared so that I may fight whoever may challenge Thomas’ own.”

“Pretty sure that would be you, bud,” said the dragon cockily, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, what was even up today at rehearsal?”

If the other one hadn't, this question caught Roman utterly off-guard. This was the imagination; the events of reality had no place in here!

“I mean, we were supposed to be playing JD, an abusive boyfriend and extremist terrorist. Lots of room for awful, awful thoughts in that mentality, I would think. And what did Thomas do?”

“Uh, he nailed the performance! With my guidance, naturally.”

The dragon snickered. “Oh, and was he ‘nailing it’ when he straight-up broke character during ‘Freeze Your Brain?’”

Roman flinched. He had forgotten about that.

“Firstly, don’t you dare accuse him of doing anything straight.”

“I’ll concede that point, but you’re changing the subject.”

“Okay, so he made one mistake! So what?” he retaliated.

This was probably the wrong thing to say, for something in his words led her eyes to crinkle with amusement.

“Oh, I’d hardly call it ‘one mistake,’ Princey. He laughed. He was just about to tell Veronica that his mom had died, leaving him subject to serious neglect from his dad, and he just cracks up! With your guidance, naturally,” she mocked.

Shut up.

“Well, even he makes mistakes once in a while! I mean, were you there for that delivery from Nicole? How could I - how could he not laugh?” he corrected himself, but it was too late. She latched onto the weakness.

“Let’s just drop pretenses, okay? This isn’t his fault. This is about you and all your failures that screw him over. This is all your fault, it’s opening night tomorrow and it’s all your fault, and you’re so stuck in your bubble of narcissism that you can’t even see how miserable you’re making him.”

Shut up.

“And you know the worst part? You’re happy about it. You’re content to let him make a fool of himself -no, for you to make a fool of yourself - onstage in front of an entire audience while thinking you’re worth their attention, let alone their money?” She brought her head down to his level, beady eyes looking menacingly down on him. “You are nothing.”

“Shut up!” he blurted out. The dragon gazed smugly at his comparatively tiny figure, face contorted with rage.

“He hates you. They hate you.”

And at that, Roman charged at the beast swordfirst and let out a mighty battle cry.

Despite all she had done, the dragon looked almost surprised for an instant, and her wings moved to the shield herself. But the prince was not deterred and heaved the sword cleanly through a phalange.

She screamed in agony, and her voice turned suddenly to a low growl.

“Get away from me.”

The growl entered his mind, instilling a greater fear within him than he had felt ever before. Suddenly, every nerve in his body, every receptor in his brain, was echoing the order: get away, get away, get away.

His feet stumbled back as if of their own accord, and his sword dropped in the midst of the chaos.

And yet, the dragon showed little more than a hint of smugness, and continued to shield itself, not even making eye contact with him. As a matter of fact, the very idea seemed to frighten her. Her large underbelly inhaled and exhaled shakily, but it was nothing compared to Roman’s own heavy breathing, his fear and fury coupled with exhaustion from his physical outburst.

“How...how did you do that?”

“I’m a witch,” she replied bluntly.

“A...dragon witch?”

“...Yep. That’s me. The Dragon Witch.”

He waited for any further explanation, but none came, and she continued to stare intensely at the rocky floor. A tense silence filled the air, disturbed only by the occasional dripping of water from the ceiling.

“I am what keeps him going,” he breathed eventually. “If they hated me, what would that say about you?”

The Dragon Witch sat up for a moment, steadying her breathing as best she could. She turned her gaze to the light streaming from the hole Roman had entered from.

Then, she laughed again.

“I guess we’re both royally screwed, then.”

Before he could process the pun, she spread her wings, torchlight revealing a thin scarlet stream running from the gash he had opened, and took off above him.

“We’ll meet again, Roman,” her voice echoed.

“How-” he spun around, distraught at the sound of his name, but she had vanished.

He looked up at the hole once more. Surely, it was too big for someone of her scale to fly through so easily.

When he returned from his venture to report to the other two, he would explain using little more than some selective phrasing from the Dragon Witch herself.

But he would never contradict her insults.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Chapter 1 take on another perspective.

“You can keep doing this forever,” said the Side in front of him.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware what I can and can’t do was based on how convenient it is for you,” Virgil spat back.

“It’s not in anyone’s best interest. They're doing their jobs perfectly, and that's because they're so insecure. It was never your job to reign them in, but that’s exactly what you've been doing.”

Virgil groaned. Deceit wasn't even supposed to be here in the dungeon, the small section of the imagination he visited often.This was supposed to be his escape from all the chaos in his room, including the all-too-frequent visits of the others. Yet somehow he had followed him today, dressed in a costume of lies, and Virgil knew that in time he would suffer the consequences. For now, though, he was doing his best to match Deceit’s charade with his own inherently lesser one, the lie that it was a one-time occurance.

Play it casual, Verge, said his ever-present voice of doubt.

“I'm biding my time,” he answered. “There's no better place to pop in than in the middle of utter bliss. I know my stuff. Soon, Deceit.” He pulled his hood casually over his head.

“Soon?” He lifted the scales where his left eyebrow should have been. “Hmph. Prove yourself.”

Before Virgil could ask exactly how that would work, Deceit raised a yellow-gloved hand and tilted it into a fist, and Virgil felt himself go mute as his hand came up to his mouth to do the same.

Good luck, mouthed the serpentine, eyes twinkling with amusement, as he sunk out to his room.

As the Lying Side vanished, his cruel laughter emerged in his wake. Virgil gasped in air as his hand dropped from his mouth and his vocal cords returned to his control. Control was the one thing Anxiety couldn't manage without, and that made his relationships with the others...strenuous, to say the least. Especially with Deceit, who was always in control but never let on to his honest intentions. This was a prime example; what was he supposed to make of something as foreboding as “prove yourself?”

His answer came when he heard footsteps from the other side of the corridor-like path formed by the looming stone enclosure.

“Show yourself, fiend!”

He knew the source of that cocky declaration without a doubt. Creativity. Was this really the time? He was trying to keep off the radar! A breath escaped him, and he knew it would reach the other’s ear.

So much for laying low. He’d have to resort to shapeshifting. Something in terms even Princey would understand loud and clear.

He’d never tried for a dragon.

Thinking fast, Virgil pictured the form. Niiice and intimidating. This would tide over his insecurities until he was ready to make his presence known for real; an inflated ego was easy to pop, after all.

All at once, he was falling onto all fours, and he hissed in celebration of his newfound confidence. Here, in this form, he was in control.

He took a step forward to get a better view of his newfound victim and smirked.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, “if it isn’t the Prince of Creative Recipes for Disaster.” His eyes widened infinitesimally at his own voice. He must have rushed the transformation and become a female dragon instead, and now he had no choice but to go with it.

“Faced with the very disaster he’s been preparing for,” he replied coolly. Virgil deflected the insult with a nonchalant shrug. Sticks and stones and all that. Besides, he’d been told worse.

“Oh really?” he said, crossing his forearms and settling his head down onto them. “And what made you so desperate to prepare for me?” He pushed aside the possibility that Deceit had planned all this in favor of chuckling at what was likely a bluff. He watched Creativity intently for a reaction, and gave himself a mental pat on the back when he hesitated.

“I am a prince of passions, and I prepared so that I may fight whoever may challenge Thomas’ own,” he said.

Oh, sure. He was the bad guy here. “Pretty sure that would be you, bud. I mean, what was even up today at rehearsal?”

Here was his real grievance: the moment he’d probably be reminding Thomas of for the next few years. Unless, of course, one of those three somehow managed to top this. With their track record, he could never discount this.

“I mean, we were supposed to be playing JD, an abusive boyfriend and extremist terrorist,” he continued. “Lots of room for awful, awful thoughts in that mentality, I would think. And what did Thomas do?”

“Uh, he nailed the performance! With my guidance, naturally.”

Virgil snickered. Oh, how typical: he let his ego get in the way of reliving his nightmare of a failure. Well, that was where Anxiety kicked in.

“Oh, and was he ‘nailing it’ when he straight-up broke character during ‘Freeze Your Brain?’”

He watched in glee as the prince remembered at last, and the illusion of a world where he was the hero shattered on impact. He flinched, and his eyes darted to the side. Virgil recognized the tactic he was trying to pull - creating a diversion, less for his attacker and more for himself. It was a strategy he had used countless times, and so he knew what it indicated.

He was winning.

“Firstly, don’t you dare accuse him of doing anything straight.”

“Okay, I’ll concede that point,” he said, stifling a grin, “but you’re changing the subject.”

Pointing out his bluff. It always scared him half to death, and he was accustomed to it. So, his delight was palpable when it worked tenfold on Princey.

“Okay, so he made one mistake! So what?” he retaliated, and on cue, Virgil leeched off the insecurity just as he had been taught.

No. No, not like he had been taught. This was different. This was for his own good.

That’s what Deceit tells himself, whispered the skeptical voice from the back of his head. He ignored it.

“Oh, I’d hardly call it ‘one mistake,’ Princey. He laughed.” Leave it to Prince Holier-Than-Thou to downplay his own stupidity. “He was just about to tell Veronica that his mom had died, leaving him subject to serious neglect from his dad, and he just cracks up! With your guidance, naturally,” he spat back.

Using his own words against him, the voice pressed on. Ring a bell?

It’s different. It’s so he can be the best he can be for Thomas’ sake. I’m the only thing keeping him from being a disappointment.

Like you’re any better, prodded the inner skeptic.

I am! Shut up, he told himself.

“Well, even he makes mistakes once in a while! I mean, were you there for that delivery from Nicole? How could I - how could he not laugh?”

You’re degrading him, it pointed out.

That’s a good thing, he thought half-heartedly.

“Let’s just drop pretenses, okay?” he seethed. “This isn’t his fault. This is about you and all your failures that screw him over. This is all your fault, it’s opening night tomorrow and it’s all your fault, and you’re so stuck in your bubble of narcissism that you can’t even see how miserable you’re making him.”

Like he’s the one at fault. Pathetic. Are you honestly happy to see him suffer? You’re a sadist. Disgusting. Go on, twist the knife. Finish what you started, taunted the voice.

Shut up.

“And you know the worst part? You’re happy about it. You’re content to let him make a fool of himself -no, for you to make a fool of yourself - onstage in front of an entire audience while thinking you’re worth their attention, let alone their money?” He brought his head down to the tiny prince’s level level, trying to drown out his own insults, trying not to see his own cowardice reflected in the figure before him. “You are nothing.”

And Princey was steaming but quaking in his boots, and Virgil was a powerful monster looming over him, and he screamed “shut up,” and it felt so, so good to be in control for once.

“He hates you. They hate you.”

Suddenly, the prince leapt from his spot with a roar. For the first time, Virgil caught sight of the sword in his hand as he swung it upwards and outwards, charging straight towards him, and by some godsend of an instinct he covered himself with his wings as it finally occurred him that this Side fancied himself a knight, and oh god he was literally trying to kill him, he was going to die here and those were going to be his last words and he would fail Deceit’s test and fail Thomas and fail the others and fail to defend himself and everything he did was wrong just like he was wrong and he was no better than Deceit he was worse than Deceit and in his last few seconds were going to be wasted in fear just like he had wasted his entire life in fear he was nothing but fear he was Anxiety and Anxiety was a burden and he was being stabbed for real and this was wrong he needed to get away from him get away get away get away-

“Get away from me.”

He hadn't meant to use the deep voice, but then again, he never did. He knew rationally that he couldn't die here in the mindscape, but he and Logic had quite literally never met. In the midst of an anxiety attack, reason and rationale weren't exactly his top priority.

He tried his best to steady his breathing and remain on top, but his exhalations were short and sharp.His mind was racing with adrenaline even as his words ensnared the enemy and forced him away. When he finally regulated himself, it was shaky, and the prince had long since caught on.

Silently, he prayed that he had the mercy not to prey on it.

Like you have any right after what you've done, insisted the nagging feeling.

After what felt like an eternity, though, he simply asked, “How...how did you do that?”

For a moment, Virgil entertained the genuine amusement that ran through him. Of course, he would focus his attention on the power he was so unexposed to. Well, he needed to think of something stupid enough for Excalibutt to buy, and fast.

“I’m a witch.”

“A...dragon witch?”

“...Yep. That’s me. The Dragon Witch.”

Roman - and that he remembered now, his name was Roman - seemed to consider this for a moment, before deciding it was sufficient explanation for him. Satisfied, Virgil fell into his all-too-regular pastime of staring at the floor for prolonged periods of time. He listened to the drip-drip-drip of cave water to ease himself into a state of semi-normalcy.

Finally, Roman broke the silence.

“I am what keeps him going,” he breathed. “If they hated me, what would that say about you?”

That stung. It stung with the fury of a thousand suns because he knew it was true. He was Anxiety. He did nothing but hold them back, and he had the audacity to criticize Creativity? Sure, he may have screwed up, but at least his job was productive. Virgil was no better.

He looked around and his eyes fell the a pillar of light streaming down from his hole. He needed to make a break for it. He wasn't okay. God, when was he ever okay?

He laughed, a weak and pitiful laugh of desperation.

“I guess we're both royally screwed, then.”

With all the concentration he could muster, he spread his wings, and with a single powerful flap that took all his strength, propelled himself over the Creative Side and towards the ladder to freedom. Just as he reached the top and began to lose self-generated thermal, his body twisted into his true form and fell through the air for a split second. His hand caught the top rung of the ladder, and without a moment to lose before Roman turned around and saw him in his real and miserable body, he scampered into the tunnel above and took off running. Running as far away as he could get from the truth.

Maybe Deceit wasn’t so bad.


End file.
